


Catching the Lizard

by Jaybeesaur



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Case Fic, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-02
Updated: 2014-09-06
Packaged: 2018-02-15 20:48:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2243028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaybeesaur/pseuds/Jaybeesaur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The boys catch wind of a case not too far from Bobby's home town. Solving it is another matter entirely as the boys are sent on what starts to feel like a wild goose chase and ending in even more winged puns.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Decent Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is part of an exchange between another tumblr user (linneart.tumblr.com) and myself. We corroborated a need for something and hope to achieve completion of that need with this exchange. (Sorry Linneart, I know it doesn't have what we talked about yet but I promise it's getting there!)

They're on the road when it happens. They get a seemingly harmless phone call that ends up changing everything. They were just on their way back to the motel after picking up a new headlight bulb for the Impala when it started ringing.

 

_Ring, ring._

_Ring, ring._

 

Sam looks at the screen impatiently flashing the name of the caller at him. He presses the button to answer the call and holds the phone up to his ear.

 

“Hey, Bobby.” He greets, grabbing Dean's attention. He waits for Bobby to finish talking, listening closely as he always does, as he always has to. Bobby doesn't call unless it's important and the boys both know that.

 

He just keeps listening, intently. Dean waits impatiently to be filled in as they pull into the parking lot of the motel.

 

“Yeah, alright Bobby. I'll let him know.” He says, just as the Impala pulls to a stop. Dean places her safely in park and turns the key, silencing her engine.

 

“Well? What'd he say?” Dean asks as they step out onto the concrete, closing the Impala's doors with a solid _thump_.

 

He lets out his breath in a huff before starting, “He wanted to fill us in about a series of arsons in a town near Sioux Falls.”

 

Dean's face scrunches up a bit. “Why'd he wanna tell us about a string of arsons? Do I look like a fireman to you?” He asks, looking at Sam pointedly as he realizes the implications of his outburst. Sam opens his mouth as if he was going to say something but, seeing the smug look on his face, Dean interjects with a firm “Don't answer that” and a finger raised in warning.

 

It shuts him up but it doesn't wipe that smirk off his face as he sits down at the room's 'kitchen' table.

 

He starts up again, though, as Dean hands him a beer, cracking his own open and sipping it while he leans against the counter.

 

“Bobby wants us to head his way in the morning. He said he'd explain when we get there.”

 

Dean points the mouth of his bottle at Sam when he talks, saying “Yeah, well you're gonna have to call him back and tell him about Baby's busted headlight. We ain't going nowhere until she's healthy again.”

 

Sam just lifts himself off the chair, chuckling softly as he follows Dean to the living area. He knows Dean is only joking. The headlight will only take a couple minutes to replace and they'll be at Bobby's before sundown.

 

Dean seats himself in front of the television with his beer and turns it on. Sam decides to opt out, placing his unopened bottle on the table in front of Dean.

 

“I'm gonna head to sleep. You should soon, too, Dean. Long drive tomorrow.”

 

He shifts in under his blankets, closing his eyes as his brother retorts with an overly exaggerated “Alright, _Mom_.” and flicks the T.V. back off.

 

Dean throws his body onto the mattress intended for him and rolls, turning over to face the wall before drifting off to sleep, not even bothering to mess with his blankets.

 

* * *

 

The next morning, after Dean finishes fixing the headlight bulb, the boys set off. They trek from Jefferson City, Missouri to Sioux Falls, South Dakota; the drive lasting seven hours, minus bathroom breaks. They call ahead to let Bobby know they've arrived in Sioux Falls and a few minutes later they pull into the driveway, gravel crinkling under the Impala's tires.

 

Bobby greets them at the porch, iced tea in hand.

 

“Come on in boys, time to get down to business.” He leads them into the library and wheels around behind his desk.

 

“So, Bobby. What's so important about these fires, exactly?” Sam speaks, getting straight to the point.

 

“If ya'd give me a minute, you'd know I was just about to tell ya.” He scolds, rummaging through papers and books scattered haphazardly across his desk.

 

“Ah, here it is.” he lifts a newspaper, handing it to Dean. Dean glances over the paper, scanning the articles for some clue as to what Bobby was hinting at being hidden in the paper. Sam peered over his shoulder as Bobby continued. “Third paragraph,” He said, tapping the article he was implicating. “The witnesses are all saying the same thing. And what makes that interesting is the fact that the police are dismissing that fact.” He points it out like he's proud of himself for noticing. _That's Bobby, alright_. Dean shakes his head, smiling softly to himself as he continues to read from the article.

 

“The fire seemed to come out of no where, like it had a mind of it's own and a fierce hatred of the place.” Bobby quoted the witness's statement without having to peek at the newspaper, having memorized most of it's contents. “Snaked around like it was on a mission.” He quoted another statement, sounding like he was suggesting something.

 

“But local police are denying anything out of the ordinary.” Dean reads aloud. “Figures. Typical police.” He says, passing the paper into Sam's waiting hands.

 

“Police dismiss witness reports as 'unreliable', insisting upon use of gasoline or other accelerants, even though none were found at the scene.” Sam paused, reading before speaking out. “You're right, Bobby. This is all starting to sound a little fishy.”

 

“Yeah, and that's not all.” Bobby said, wheeling around towards a map hanging on the wall plastered with pictures and newspaper trimmings. It was littered with pins and string, all connecting in one way or another. He points to a spot, unable to reach from his wheelchair, but clear in indication. Seven pins are surrounded by a deep black circle that's been outlined a few times over.

 

“All seven attacks happened within a three mile radius of this.” he flashes a laser on the map, pinpointing an article adjoining the center of the pins. It's a relatively new article, only a couple days old. There's a picture of an old man standing in front of a small storefront. The article's title rings an all too familiar bell in Dean's mind.

 

“Local store owner Conláed Doherty dies, aged 83.” He reads aloud, all the pieces now fitting into place. “So, what, we're thinking a ghost set all these fires?” Dean takes the newspaper back from Sam's hands, placing it on top of the stack formed atop Bobby's desk.

 

“Well,” Sam ponders out loud as he reads the article pinned to the wall, “Conláed is an old Irish name. You'll never guess what it means.” He chuckles slightly to himself as he answers the stares the other men are providing. “It comes from loose Gaelic translations of two separate words. They basically mean 'quick' and 'fire'.” Dean looks at Sam incredulously. How on Earth Sam knew that was beyond him.

 

“Alright,” He begins anyway, “sounds like we got ourselves a ghost to gank.”

 

Sam offendedly states “Why don't we go case out the town first? See what we can gather from the witnesses and family before we dig up someone's corpse.”

 

“Sounds good to me, boys.” Bobby adds, already ushering the boys out of his house. “Let me know what you two find out about good ol' Mr. Doherty.”

 


	2. Unpleasant Sickness

"Minnehaha.” Sam said it like he had a revelation, after a few minutes of silent driving. Dean almost swerved off the road. “Can you not?” Dean shouts back, matching Sam's tone and mocking his excitement. Sam just cuts his eyes at him and keeps talking. “Minnehaha. It's a town. You know, the one that all the arsons are happening in?” He puts strained emphasis on each word and at the end of his sentence he can no longer suppress it and he coughs up a storm. It's not a dry cough either, it sounds wet and ugly and he has to hold his hand over his lips to catch globs of mucus before they shoot from his mouth.

 

“You alright there, Sammy?” He prompts, reaching over to place the back of his hand on Sam's forehead. He's burning up. “I'm fine, Dean.” Sam says, pulling away from Dean and trying to clear his throat in earnest. “Let's just focus on getting to Minnehaha. It's only twenty miles from Bobby's house.”

 

“Uh, yeah dude I know where it is. We've been driving all this time and you think I don't know where I'm going? How sick are you?” The worry was shaking his voice. He knew Sam had been feeling a little off lately but _damn_.

 

“Dean, I told you, I'm fine.” But Dean's eyebrows were forced together as Sam went into another coughing fit. How could Sam have seemed fine all day and have this much phlegm to cough up now? “Fine my ass.” Dean said, handing Sam a tissue from the glove box. Sam took it and used it to wipe the spit from his hands. They drove for a few more minutes, approaching the highway's exit to Minnehaha. They were probably going to be here for a few days so they decided to get a jump on the game and rent a motel room before getting too involved in the investigation.

 

Sam grabbed the key from Dean, practically running to the room once they arrived in the lot. Dean just rolled his eyes and went to grab their bags from the trunk. When he entered the room he could hear Sam retching violently in the bathroom. “That's it!” He said, throwing their bags on the bed closest to the window. “I'm calling Cas to come heal your ass!”

 


	3. Felled by Fever

“Hey, Cas!” Dean shouts at the ceiling. He waits for a minute and when he doesn't receive a reply he shouts again. “Cas, buddy, I need your help!”

 

He hears the tale-tell beat of wings behind him and he turns around. Sure enough, Castiel is standing right there. “Hello, Dean.” He says plainly.

 

“Heya Cas. Listen, Sam is sick.” Dean doesn't get a chance to explain further as another bout of retch bellows though the room.

 

“I know, I can... hear... him.” He says uncomfortably, Sam groaning in the washroom.

 

“Yeah, well, that's great and all but we're kinda busy at the moment so if you could jus-” Castiel lifts his hand to silence Dean's request.

 

“I'm not going to heal him Dean.”

 

Dean opens his mouth to reply but has to stop himself, replaying the sentence in his mind. “Did you just say you're _not_ going to heal Sam?” He eyes the angel suspiciously.

 

“Yes, Dean. That is what I said.” he replies flatly, looking over to the bathroom door that stands ajar.

 

“And why's that?”

 

“Sam is sick because I heal you both so often that your immune systems have been weakening,” Castiel swings his hand around to point at the washroom where Sam is currently emptying the contents of his stomach. “to the point that a simple cold is debilitating. No, I will not heal him. He will have to fight this sickness on his own. It will be good for him.”

 

“Listen, Cas. I'd be all up for that, but right now, we've got a case that needs to be dealt with before somebody gets hurt, okay? So, just patch him up so we can get on with it.” Dean flicks his hands shooingly at him, imploring him to move to Sam's aid. He doesn't budge.

 

“Dean, if his immune system isn't given time to recover on it's own he- no.” Castiel was done explaining himself. “Just no. I'm not doing it. If you need help on your hunt I will help you but I cannot heal him, nor will I heal you the next time you get sick, lest you both end up like Alexander.”

 

“Who is Alexander?” Dean asks, sounding like his patience is completely depleted.

 

“Alexander the Great. He was the commander of a vast army. Undefeated, he reigned as King of Macedonia until a fever felled him. He died because the angel watching over him healed his battle wounds daily for many years, just as I have done with you and your brother. I refuse to make the same mistake again.” Castiel said pointedly, wetting a washcloth with cool water to offer to Sam.

 

“Yeah, thanks for the warning.” He sighs he resignation, rubbing his face with his hands. “Well if you wanna help on the hunt, help on the hunt. Since Sam is gonna be puking his guts out for a couple days we might as well get started. I'm gonna head to the store and get some stuff for Sam. Food, drinks, maybe some medicine.” He grabbed his keys and headed for the door.

 

“That sounds preferable. I will wait here with Sam for your return.” Cas said, sitting himself down on the couch and flicking on the television.


End file.
